Just For God Sake, Kiss The Girl
by I Admit I'm A Disney Whore
Summary: PondLock: Sherlock and Amy are childhood friends. years pass and they reunite with telling lies upon lies to each other. Moriarty is keeping a close eye on Amy. Sherlock is getting sick of the constant running off with the Doctor. Amy will have to decide between her best friend or the man she could be falling in love with. Better than Description
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

"Doctor, explain to my why we're at an art museum?"

"Because, Amy, we're here to admire fine art, that's why."

She laughed, "That's a good reason."

The duo walked over to a Vincent Van-Gough painting. They tilted their heads to the left. What was the purpose of the painting? It was strange with all the vibrant colors and the textures.

"What do you think, Miss Pond?" the Doctor asked.

"I don't know. It's quite… vivid."

"Is that a mountain?"

"No idea," she laughed.

The Doctor put his arm around her and they laughed. Who cares about fine art? They were there for the free food. The Doctor ran off and left Amy in the middle of the floor room. She looked around her at all the fine art. In and amongst the fine art, she saw a man.

A tall man in a security guard uniform stood near one of the back corners. His black curly hair was being squished by a god awful uniformed hat. His light teal eyes stood out in a crowed against his pale skin. He was a handsome man with deep cheekbones that could cut through glass.

Amy smiled brightly as the Doctor walked up to her with a plate of exotic cheeses.

"Amy, there are so many different types of cheeses here!" he exclaimed popping a cube in his mouth.

"I know that man," she smiled, pointing out the security guard.

"Really now?"

"I'm going to say hello," she said walking off toward the man.

The man watched the ginger woman like a hawk. She stopped shy of him and looked at a painting. She looked it up and down and then turned to the security guard and smiled.

"You look like a man who knows fine art, what can you tell me about this piece?"

The man smirked, "Not a whole lot. I'm not the one for the 'fine art history lessons'."

"Hello, Sherlock Holmes," Amy greeted with a smile.

"Hello, Amelia Pond."

She gave him a quick hug, seeing that he was busy working. To her surprise, he hugged her back. A rare occurrence for him to show any sort of affection.

"I go by Amy, Sherlock," she said pulling away. He was so tall compared to her.

"My mistake, Amy Pond. Even though Amelia sounds better."

"You are still that same smart-ass from our childhood."

"And you haven't gotten your hair dyed. I remember that was all you used to talk about, dying your hair to brown and not keep it ginger."

She laughed, "It grew on me."

He smirked, "What are you doing here?"

"I was just about to ask you the same thing."

"I work here. I get to yell at children to stay behind the red velvet ropes and get paid for doing so. It could be worse."

"Easy job. But a security guard? Really?"

"Oh yes it's an easy job. Why? Well, why not?" he nodded.

The two began to walk around the showroom floor. The crowds were mostly centered around the paintings let alone the rest of the floor room.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked.

"Me and my friend John Smith are admiring the art," she smiled.

"The guy in the bowtie with the plate of cheese?"

"That's him."

Sherlock gave Amy a 'you have got to be kidding me' look. She sighed.

"Alright, we're here for the free food."

She looked back over to the Doctor who picked up a glass of red wine. He took a big sip and spat it right back into the glass. He proceeded to put the glass back on a tray of an unsuspecting waiter. He acted as if nothing had happened and went for more cheese.

Amy smiled, "He's… well…"

"No need to explain," Sherlock put up a hand to stop her from speaking, "You've always been friends with the odd ones."

"You were the first of many, Sherlock," she laughed.

"I feel honored," he said, "One moment."

He walked over to a boy around the age of eight or nine. He was under the red rope staring at a painting. He was reaching up to touch it when Sherlock walked up.

"We have the red rope for a reason," he said to the boy, "Get out from under there before I have to kick you out."

What looked like the boys mother ran up to him, "I am so sorry," she said to Sherlock. The woman took the little boy's hand, "Let's go, Peter."

Amy rejoined Sherlock.

"Easy job," she smiled.

He pulled her along away from the spot where they were standing in. She looked over her shoulder and saw the boy giving Sherlock a nasty glare. The mother still held the boy's hand, restraining him to not run off again.

"Why'd we move?"

"Before the kid could kick us, that's why."

She laughed, "Fair enough. Oy' I missed you Sherlock," she hugged onto his arm.

He looked into a hallway and saw a few men in suits talking in the shadows. There were four of them standing in a circle. He smirked. Those were the men he was looking for. Sherlock stopped and faced Amy.

"I have to go back to work now," he said.

"Oh," she deflated a little.

"I'm sorry. I hope we can see each other again soon," he smiled.

"I hope so as well, Sherlock. Maybe we could have coffee or something?"

"Sounds like a plan, Amel- Amy."

She gave him a quick hug before he walked off down the hallway. The Doctor rejoined Amy with another plate of cheese. She watched him walk off and a smile grew on her face. She couldn't help but check him out as he walked. _His ass is _fine. Amy bit her lip.

The Doctor looked from Sherlock to Amy a few times.

"Will you two get a room," he said.

Amy laughed, "What?"

"So," they began to walk around, "Who was he?"

"Childhood best friend. We were inseparable. He lived a few houses down from me and we would hang out every day during the summer and in school. Then, his father went off to war. We still hung out but he started to change. He grew more distant from me. But I always seemed to dig out the real Sherlock.

"One day, he came over to my house, hurt and crushed. He told me he was moving away. When I asked him how come, he told me about his father's death. He died in service. He told me he was moving closer to his grandparents. He gave me a necklace he made for me and I haven't seen him since then.

"Until today that is. Wow, all I can really say is puppetry was quite well to him. There's one thing I just don't understand… he had such an intelligent mind, why is he working in an art museum as a security guard?"

"Who knows," he shrugged. He offered her the plate of cheese, "Exotic cheese?"

She smiled and picked up a cube of cheese and popped it in her mouth, "Thank you."

"It's quite fancy."

"I saw what you did with the wine," she laughed, "Now _that_ was fancy."

"You saw nothing," the Doctor said.

"Sherlock saw you," Amy laughed.

The Doctor grabbed her hand, "Let's get out of here then."

She giggled and the two walked swiftly out of the museum, trying to keep a low profile. They weren't doing anything wrong, persay.

Sherlock had just got done making four men unconscious. He hid the unconscious bodies deep in the hallway marked 'employees only'. He pulled out his cell phone and threw his stupid hat across the hallway.

_Got the flash drive. Men unconscious. Meet you outside- SH_

He looked out the nearby window and smirked. He saw Amy and the Doctor running off to somewhere unknown. He had missed her so much. He took off the rest of the security guard uniform and walked towards the stairs leading downstairs.

_Amy Pond, _he thought, _never thought I'd see her again…_

The Doctor and Amy walked around the streets of London. The Doctor rambled on about who knows what, boring Amy.

_Sherlock Holmes, _she thought, _I never expected to see him again._

**(A/N: sooo yeah, this is my first sort of Doctor Who or Sherlock fic… wait I take that back! I have that SuperWhoLock one… but this is different! This is WhoLock! I love love love PondLock and this is my first fic for it. I hope this turns out how I want it too! **

**R and R please? That'd be awesome. You guys. You guys are awesome.)**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

By the time Sherlock got outside, Amy and her friend were completely out of sight. He was still in his security guard outfit of sorts. He still had the black pants and shoes on, but he took all the badges and knick knacks off the white shirt. He lost the tie back up in the art museum. To his recollection, it was wrapped around one of the men's necks.

Sherlock pulled his coat tighter around his neck. He missed his scarf. The blue one he always wore. It was sitting back in his flat, wrapped around the bed post. The English wind was always a problem in the fall. Popping the collar of his jacket, Sherlock waited for his assistant and a cab.

Hands in pockets, Sherlock fiddled around with whatever he had in there. A flash-drive and a cell phone. Nothing interesting. He was bored. Secretly, Sherlock wished Amy would come back so they could talk more. It's been at least twelve years since they last talked. Here they were now, adults. Twelve years older, brighter… and better looking.

_Amelia looked lovely today… she must've just flown in from somewhere warm with her shorts and jacket. And that man she was with… he seemed a bit off. Not of the norm… Bow ties? Really? Bow ties are not cool…_

He felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. Text. He pulled it out and looked at the message. _Cabbie got lost _ be there shortly! Sorry –JW_

Sherlock let out a laugh. Oh how he hated London cabbies, but relied so much on them. He slid the phone back in his pocket and began to fidget around. He was so _bored_!

Amelia popped back into his head. Why? Why was Amelia Pond back in his head? He hadn't thought about her in years. Not quite twelve years. Once in a while she'd maneuver her way back into his head. Last time he thought about her was about a year ago during a case. He was in his mind palace and she just sortta popped up.

XxXxXxXxX

"Amelia! Come down and play!"

"In a minute, Sherlock!"

"Stop talking to your imaginary friend already and come out with real people!"

"Shut up, Sherlock! Give me a moment!"

Little Sherlock waited patiently outside for his friend. He watched Amelia's aunt walk into the door and wave to Sherlock. He noticed how her hair was messed up and poorly tried to be fixed up. Her makeup was poorly done and clothes were wrinkled. Sherlock deduced that she had probably stayed over with someone for the night. What a horrible woman.

Amelia finally ran down the stairs and outside to her best friend. She smiled to him and ran into his arms, embracing him in a hug.

"Hello, Sherlock!"

"Hello, Amelia," he said, "How's the 'Doctor'?"

She pulled away and hit him in the shoulder.

"Oy, Sherlock! Shut up would you? The Doctor is real!"

"My brother showed me this cool place yesterday! Wanna investigate?" he asked with a smile.

"Of course!" her face lit up with excitement.

XxXxXxXxX

Sherlock snapped out of his memories. His phone vibrated again. It was from John again. _Cabbie won't go around corner. Met out front. –JW_

He quickly typed _on my way –SH_

Sherlock pulled up the collar of his jacket and walked to the front of the art museum to catch the cabbie and John.

He found the cabbie right away and got in. it was so warm and toasty in the cab. John waited patiently for Sherlock. He really wanted to choke the cab driver for getting lost.

"Sorry bout that, Sherlock," John said, "Great job blending in though. I only could stay for a little bit before I had to run off."

"How much did you see?"

"Enough," he said, "If you're going to yell at little boys, be kinder when you do so."

Sherlock smirked. He hadn't seen Amelia with him. To keep Amy away from John was the best idea. At least for now. Who knows when their next encounter will be and who will be around? Whether it is John or the funny man with the bow tie.

London had grown dark and cloudy. Another day of rain, nothing new. Sometimes it felt like London was raining ten months out of the year. Sherlock gazed out the cab window and watched the raindrops fall onto the glass one at a time. They were so perfect.

XxXxXxXxX

"How did Mycroft find this wonderful place?" little Amelia asked.

"Beats me," little Sherlock laughed, "But it's great, is it not?"

"Oy! It's beautiful!"

The two had found an old tree house to play in. There was a slide, a firemen's pole, a rope that swings out into a lake. It was huge! It was large enough for four kids to have a camp out in. Mycroft told him that older kids went there to do bad things, and to be very careful. Any sign of older kid, run.

"This place is wonderful!" Amy exclaimed, "I wish the Doctor could see this!"

"Amelia, there is no Doctor. He's a figment of your imagination."

"Oh shut up, Sherlock," she gave him a little push on the shoulder.

He smiled and went down the slide, praying that it wouldn't break. The slide failed to break and he smiled up to Amelia.

"You have a go!"

She was a bit hesitant at first, but went down cheering 'Yay!'. Sherlock smiled when she got to the bottom.

"Wasn't that fun?"

"Oh yes! Oy, Sherlock," she exclaimed, "Big kids!"

He grabbed her hand and they bolted for home. It was a long run and was getting cloudy out. At once, the heavens opened up and began to pour. They laughed and kept running for home.

They were getting closer to home. They stopped and decided to make due with the rain. Once in a while, you just need to dance in the rain, splash in the puddles and have a good time with your best friend.

The duo splashed in every puddle they could find on the way home. By the time they reached Sherlock's house, they were soaked to the bone. Amelia said she'd be right back after she grabbed a change of warm clothes.

Sherlock walked in to be attacked by his mother. She was smothering him saying how she was so worried about him and how he could catch pneumonia (which he did in fact a day later).

Amelia came back and Mrs. Holmes made some cocoa for them and put them in the library to warm up by the fire. Mycroft was on babysitting duty, which in his opinion wasn't too bad. They were good children and he just ate his cookies with his nose in a book.

After Amelia left that night, Sherlock got sick with pneumonia. It wasn't far in for any real damage to take place and it was surprisingly easy to cure. He was only in the hospital for a few days. Every day, Amelia and her aunt would stop by to visit the Holmes and give Sherlock a get well soon card.

Once home, he was bedridden. Mothers orders of course. By the time he could go back out and play and be social with Amelia, they were faced with horrible news. Mr. Holmes belongings. He was drafted for the war. He promised Sherlock and Mycroft he'd be home for Christmas. Daddy wasn't going to make it.

Days later he went to Amelia's house, almost in tears. He had to do something very hard. He told Amelia what had happened and said he was moving to London to be near his grandparents to cope with the loss. He gave her a necklace with a heart on the end of it. She gave him a huge hug and told him they'd see each other again.

He slumped away and into the car. Mycroft up front, nose in a book as usual, and mother driving. Sherlock watched Amelia sadly wave out the window of her home. Sherlock waved back and then sulked into the backseat.

Sherlock Holmes would never make another friend again.

XxXxXxXxX

"Sherlock?" John called.

His memory flashback was cut off. Good. He looked to John and realized they were out front of 221B Baker Street.

"I'm fine," he said and the two got out of the cabbie.

They walked into the flat and up to the first floor. John threw his jacket on one of the arm chairs and turned to Sherlock who was now lying in the couch.

"Do ya wanna talk about anything?" John asked.

"Leave me to think, John. See you in the morning," he said standing up and walking back to his room.

"Night, Sherlock!" John called just before his bedroom door shut.

_He's hiding something again…_ John thought, _and I will get it out of him._

**(A/N: boom! Chapter 2 is done! I started chapter 3 as well. The original chapter 2 ended up working better for chapter 3! Yay! **

**So, the great Sherlock Holmes, having feelings when he was a child? Could the death of his father prove to be a source for his problems? Who knows… but I love little Sherlock! He be adorable! **

**Come on, like you can't picture Mycroft reading something like _A Clockwork Orange _with the book in one hand and a cupcake in the other? Haha!**

**R and R and thank you for reading! You guys rock!)**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

The next morning, Sherlock and John sat around reading the paper. John was eating breakfast, but Sherlock was in thinking mode. No distractions for him. _Why did members of the British parliament want with a flash drive? It had to have been something against the government. No use putting in a laptop it could have a virus on it knowing how sneaky the parliament was._

"So, at the art museum yesterday, who was that woman you were with, Sherlock?"

John snapped Sherlock out of his thoughts. He hated when John tried to bring up 'small talk'. He didn't want John to know about Amelia. At least not yet.

"I don't know which one you mean, John," Sherlock was playing dumb for John, "I spoke with many women yesterday. Not by choice though…" he pulled a newspaper up and scanned it for something interesting.

"I know you know her. There would be no other explanation for the hug."

"I still don't know which woman you are referring too…"

"Oh really?" John put down the newspaper and faced Sherlock giving him a smirk, "The ginger with the nice legs. Who was she?"

"You won't let it go, will you?"

John smirked and shook his head, "Nope."

Sherlock let out an annoyed sigh and put down the newspaper he grew bored with over one scan, "Her name is Amelia Pond."

"And?"

"And what? What else could you possibly want to know?"

"How do you know her? You gave her a hug! Physical contact. I can tell you had a past with her. Now out with it."

"What do you want to hear? That we were childhood friends? We knew each other since we could talk? That she didn't have parents and grew up with her aunt in Britain when she should've been in Scotland? Or how about the fact that she was the only person who would tolerate me as a child? And then had to give all of that up and move away and never see Amelia again? Tell me, John, what do you want to know about her?"

John knew Sherlock was prone to outbursts like that. But he was not prepared for that outburst. He hadn't realized that that girl, or anyone, meant so much to him like that.

"I- I'm sorry, Sherlock," John said, "I didn't know she meant that much to you…"

"She did," Sherlock said, "But that was a long time ago."

Sherlock stood and went back to his room, leaving John alone in the living room. John pulled out his phone and sent a text. _Does the name Amelia Pond ring any bells? –JW._

He snapped it shut and took his plates and put them in the sink. One day they'll remember to wash them, or at least put them in the dish washer. Or not, either or would do. Mrs. Hudson would do it somehow, and complain how she's not their housekeeper and only their landlady.

John heard his phone go off and went to check the message. _Car's out front –MH _

John let out a sigh. He snapped his phone shut and grabbed his green army jacket from the arm chair. He slipped it on and went down towards Sherlock's room.

"Going out for a bit!" he called.

"We need milk," Sherlock said.

John sighed, "Your turn to get the milk, Sherlock! I'll be back later."

"I heard you," he said.

John looked to the door, now upset that he had caused Sherlock to sulk, again. He thought it was strange that a grown man still sulked. What other twenty eight year old would sulk like that?

He walked downstairs and got into the black car waiting for him out front. He got in the back like he was accustomed too. Athena was sitting right next to him, texting away on her phone.

"Hello again," he said to her with an awkward smile.

She looked up for a brief moment at him, "Hello," she then went back to texting.

John sat in the car now extremely awkward. He was expecting to go back to that workhouse, but not this time. The driver pulled up to a little bistro in central London. John looked to Athena quite confused.

"Mycroft's in there," she said not bothering to look up.

"Thanks…" he said getting out of the car.

John stood and looked into the crowded bistro. This wasn't like Mycroft to suggest a place like this. John didn't pa too much attention to it and walked in. he spotted Mycroft easily. He awkwardly walked passed people drinking coffee and joined Mycroft.

He stood and shook hands with John. They seated and got right down to business.

"How do you know who Amelia Pond is?" Mycroft asked

"Sherlock told me," he said, "He had a little melt down and I wanted to know who she was."

"My brother has a past with Miss Pond for certain. I would baby-sit them on countless occasions. She's a childhood friend of his, and I think his only friend. She had moved in with her aunt when her parents were feuding. She was Scottish born and she kept her accent for as long as I remember.

"Sherlock and Amelia were friends since day one. They always hung out every day for long periods of time. The two were inseparable, always getting in trouble and causing havoc.

"One time in particular I remember them going out and getting caught in the rain. They were out there for at least two hours and came home soaking wet," a smile crept onto Mycroft's face, "they were laughing and joking around. They told me about their exciting adventure. Splashing around in the puddles and splashing each other," the smile had faded, "No less than a day later Sherlock came down with pneumonia."

"Oh my gosh," John said taking a sip of his coffee.

"Indeed. Amelia and her aunt would visit everyday. Sherlock and Amelia would talk and talk and talk for hours until her aunt would make her leave. In all honesty, I think she's the reason why Sherlock got better so quickly. Power of friendship I presume," he let out a scoff, "Sure. But that all changed quickly.

"Our father was drafted into the military. We got word how he died in war. Our mother decided it was best to move closer to the city to live with our grand parents. Sherlock gave Amelia a necklace and never saw her again. He vowed never to make another friend again. And he didn't.

"School years, he was the outcast as you probably have guessed. Didn't talk to anyone, just did his work and was done with it. It wasn't until recently where he had made another friend. That would be you, John Watson."

"That's the story?"

"That's the story."

"Why wouldn't he tell me something as simple as that?"

"Because it's Sherlock Holmes," Mycroft said, "that's why."

John pondered over that for a moment, "Yes, you are right."

"I know I'm right, John."

"What would happen if he started seeing this woman again?"

"Hard to say. Why? Has he seen her again?"

"Briefly the other day. He gave her physical contact in the form of a hug."

Mycroft settled back in the chair, "You're positive it was Amelia Pond?"

"That's who he said she was. Ginger, green eyes, all legs?"

"Scottish?"

"From what I heard, yes."

"That's her alright," Mycroft said, "Just keep an eye on him, that's all I really have to offer for you, John."

"Thanks for your help, Mycroft," John said standing from the table.

Mycroft soon followed to shake his hand. They said their farewells and John walked out of the barista and into the car that awaited his return to Baker Street.

Shocked beyond all recognition, Mycroft pulled out his phone and texted; _you're seeing Amelia Pond? –MH_

He didn't want to believe it. Amelia Pond was back and looking for Sherlock? That couldn't be. They hadn't seen her in years. Twelve years to be exact, or had it been longer? Mycroft couldn't recall off the top of his head.

A text from his brother arrived soon after he sent it. _So what if I am? What do you care? –SH_

He did have a point. Why did he care? Because he didn't want to see him get hurt again. Caring was a disadvantage. Showed you were weak.

_Because I do care, that's why. Don't want to see you get hurt. –MH_. He responded. He didn't want Sherlock to get hurt like he did back then.

_Caring is a disadvantage. Don't worry about me. –SH_

Mycroft would worry about him. Even if Sherlock restrained him, he would still care. Family is family, even if they don't see eye to eye.

**(A/N: yay family! I wish I had siblings… oh well!**

**Here's chapter 3. Not too bad I don't think… I love Mycroft Holmes! He's for sure my fave character after Sherlock. He's so funny even though he's not supposed to be. I love his umbrella too… hahaha**

**So, R and R and you guys rock! Whoo! Chapter 4 up soon! The Doctor and Amy return! WHOO!)**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

"Doctor, how much longer till the TARDIS is up and running?" Amy asked hanging on the rails near the consol.

"Soon, hopefully!" the Doctor called upon hearing a crash and what sounded like a tiny explosion.

Amy shot up and ran to the stairs as if to find him, "Are you alright, Doctor?"

"Fine! Fine," he called.

"You sure?"

"Perfectly fine, Amy!"

He emerged from one of the rooms, covered head to toe in black ash. He still had a smile on his face as he coughed up some ash.

"See? Fine," he said with a huge grin.

Amy laughed, "Seems like it."

The Doctor shook his hair out and walked up to Amy, "If you're bored, go out for a bit. You don't have to be cooped up in here all day. Go out. Enjoy yourself! Maybe meet up with that man you pointed out the other day," he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"Doctor, no! He's just an old friend, nothing more."

"Then why were you checking him out at the museum and hanging all over him?"

"I missed him."

"Go out and have some fun," the Doctor said.

"Do you need any help?"

"No, no, no," he insisted, "Go off and have fun out in the open world."

"You sure-"

"Yes! Go off! And Amy," the Doctor smiled, "Get me a cupcake while your out."

She nodded, finally giving into the Doctor. She felt as if he was making her go out and see Sherlock again. She wasn't arguing over that. Any excuse to see Sherlock was a good excuse. Or little to no excuse at all. She had missed him greatly. It was many years since she last saw him drive away. Twelve or so years. How long was it really? It had to have been longer than that.

The Doctor handed Amy her scarf and bag and hurried her out the TARDIS door. She stumbled as she fell out of the police box and he shut the door on her. No turning back now. At least, not against the Doctor's orders.

Amy put on her red scarf the Doctor handed her and tossed her back over her shoulder and attempted to work her way into the sidewalks of busy London. She stood out in a crowed. Fiery red hair, red scarf, mini skirt and boots and of course her flannel shirt. She felt lovely in her choice of outfit. She hoped deep down inside Sherlock would be able to see her anywhere in a crowed. Even if she couldn't find Sherlock right away… or at all.

She walked around London for a good hour before deciding to take a break. Amy took a quick break sitting down in the grass and bask in the sun for a while. She couldn't check her facebook on her phone. The Doctor threw it into a black hole and claimed no one needed to know that she was visiting Queen Elizabeth the 1st. he was right, to an extent. But what about contacting friends to keep in touch for the soul purpose of keeping in touch… like Sherlock.

Her mind always wandered back to Sherlock. He's been in her head constantly for the past few days since she saw him. Amy hadn't thought about him in years, and one meeting changed that whole experience for her. It was like one of those 'you don't know what you have until it's gone' deals. She wanted to see Sherlock again, soon.

Mind wandering all over the place, she allowed it to go back deep into her childhood to her first meeting with Sherlock.

XxXxXxXxX

"Hello, Amanda."

"Hello, Katherine."

"Who's this?"

"This is Amelia Pond," Amanda said trying to bring out the shy ginger, "She's my niece and she's a little shy."

"So are my boys," Katherine laughed, "Come in, come in."

She stood aside and let the two come in. Amelia was overwhelmed by the size of the house. She hung onto her aunt tighter, with a fear of getting lost.

"Mycroft! Sherlock!" Katherine called, "Get down here! We have guests!"

Soon, two boys came bounding down the stairs. The one was a ginger, like Amelia but not as red. The other had black curly hair, nothing like his brother or mother. The ginger boy held a thick book in his one hand and held Sherlock's hand in the other.

"Boys, this is Mrs. North from a few houses down and her niece, Amelia," Katherine introduced, "These are my sons Mycroft and Sherlock."

Sherlock began to hide behind his older brother for security. Mycroft smiled to Mrs. North and little Amelia.

"Hello," he greeted with a smile.

"Mycroft is older by seven years. And this-" Katherine bent down and picked up Sherlock and held him in her arms, "is little Sherlock. I believe he's around Amelia's age."

Amanda picked up Amelia, "She's three in a half."

"Perfect," Katherine smiled, "Sherlock is four."

"That's great. Amelia finally has a play-mate," she smiled.

"Let's let the kids play and we'll have tea," Katherine said putting down little Sherlock, who proceeded to hold onto his brother for comfort.

"Sounds like a good idea," she put down Amelia who sat on the floor, thumb in her mouth.

"Mycroft," Katherine began, "Look after them, you hear?"

"Yes, mummy."

The women retreated to the kitchen for tea and conversation. Mycroft took hand of both Sherlock and Amelia, which with the book was difficult. Sherlock carried it for him as he tugged them both along into the library to play.

The library was large enough for the kids to play and stay out of Mycroft's way. He settled down in an arm chair and opened his book and began to read.

Sherlock and Amelia sat across from one another, staring at each other, not saying a word. Amelia was fascinated with Sherlock's brilliant blue eyes. They were unearthly shade of blue. Almost a light sea foamy tealish blue. They were bright and stood out against his pale skin and black hair.

Sherlock cocked his head to the side. A ginger with fiery red hair. It looked like her hair could catch on fire at any point and time from his intensity. She was pale, like him, but had a few freckles here and there. Her eyes were a beautiful shade of hazel that Sherlock found fascinating. A ginger with hazel eyes, and not green.

Mycroft looked up from his book and saw the two simply staring at one another. He sighed and shut his book and stood. He sat Indian style between the two kids.

"You two need to play. Interact with one another. Start by introducing yourselves."

Sherlock took his thumb out of his mouth, "Hi," he said quietly.

"Hi," Amelia said with a small wave.

Mycroft smiled, "That's a start. How about names?"

"Sherlock," he said quietly.

"Amelia," she greeted back.

"Good, good! Now, what kind of game can we play?"

Sherlock looked up at his brother, "We?"

"I'll play along too."

Sherlock lit up. He loved when his brother played games with him.

"How bout we play Peter Pan? You like that story, Amelia?"

She nodded with a huge smile, "I love Wendy!"

"Great! I'll be Hook and Sherlock can be Peter Pan," Mycroft smiled.

The three began to play and imagine up their own Peter Pan adventure. Pretend sword fights and follow the leader, the three played and played till well passed lunch time. They went on and on till late afternoon when Amelia's aunt came into the library to pick up Amelia.

The trio had made quite a mess in there. Littered with books and stuffed animals. Mummy Holmes came in and scolded the boys for making such a mess. Sherlock was quite upset when Amelia left. He had finally found a friend and so did Amelia.

Since that day, the two have had so many play-dates since then they've lost count. It was a match made in heaven for those two kids.

XxXxXxXxX

Amy opened her eyes and smiled. She missed those days. Playing pretend and going on adventures with her best friend. But alas, she grew up. Everyone did. She wished she and Sherlock could go back to those days and be like Peter Pan, never growing up.

She stood and began to walk again. Her rest was over and it was time to explore again. Who knew when the Doctor was going to fix the TARDIS and how much lover they'd be in the right time period. Only time could tell.

She also needed to find a cupcake for the Doctor before she returned.

**(A/N: ok, I apologize for all the flash backs. I'm just trying to show Sherlock and Amy's relationship before he left and what not… so no more for a while, promise!**

**So I wanted this to be more on Amy even though it had a bit of the Holmes boys. **

**I didn't know Amy's aunts name or Mrs. Holmes name so I just made something up! Haha. Well, hope it was satisfactory! Next chapter should be pretty amazing as well**

**R and R and you guys really rock!)**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

Sherlock despised walking the streets of London with no purpose what so ever. He did need to be somewhere, but not for a while. He needed to get out of the flat. John insisted asking about Amelia. How he new about her? "Secrets" meetings with his brother Mycroft. He knew about their meetings. Sherlock seen John get in a black car and drive off. It wasn't hard to deduce.

Everyone told him a secret as they passed. He was a cheater. She was an alcoholic. He dealt drugs. She had just gotten an abortion. It was always overwhelming for him. Too much useless information at once. It always went back to the whole 'I don't care who's sleeping with whom or who's prime minister' deal. It didn't matter.

In and amongst his head of information he was trying to delete, he ran into someone. He turned around.

"I'm terribly sorry," he said.

"You should be," the victim said sassily.

Sherlock looked up and met the victim in the eyes. Amelia Pond. Coincidence? She put her hands on her hips and stared down Sherlock with a smart-ass grin.

"Hello, Amelia," he said with a small smile.

"Hello, Sherlock," she smiled, "Busy?"

"Not at all."

"Shall we partake in that coffee idea?"

"I suppose we could," he said with a small smirk, "and I know just the place."

A few blocks away stood a nice little café, hidden away between two mainstream coffee bistros. It was quiet and not very many people knew it was there between the two other places, but it was nice. Sherlock loved to go there with John just to get away from the flat for a while.

The two entered and ordered their caffeinated beverages that neither of them really needed at the time. They sat at a small table towards the back with their drinks and just started small talk.

"What happened after that day…? When you moved out here?" Amy asked first.

"Became an outcast," he said fiddling around with his gloves, "And you?"

"Neighbor hood was quite boring without you and Mycroft. Did you two grow closer after the move?"

"Oh heavens no," he exclaimed, "We actually grew farther apart. Only a few times he'd bother with me in public, and that was to chase the bullies away from me."

"Bullied in high school? I can't see that," she said in total disbelief.  
"Believe it. No one wanted to talk to that awkward virgin in the back of the classroom deducing who's sleeping with whom in the school…"

She almost choked on her tea, "Virgin? Please, you could've easily gotten any girl you wanted."

He let out a single 'ha', "You're hilarious. I stayed asexual all throughout high school and the university."

"Still don't believe you."

"How can you not?"

"The Sherlock I know would've lost it a while ago."

"That Sherlock's gone," he said taking a sip of his coffee, "He's been gone. Sorry to burst your bubble."

"Well," she looked him straight in the eyes, "Who's this Sherlock then? The one sitting across from me right now. Who's he?"

"He is a brilliant man who hates human contact and stupid people."

She laughed, "Ok, I can see that. And also a security guard at an art museum…? How does that even tie into anything?"

He hesitated. _She thinks I'm a security guard? If she ever knew what I _really _do, that could get dangerous for her…_

"I enjoy deducing people," he lied, "And I can yell at children to step away from art. How about you Amelia Pond?"

"I'm in the police force too," she nodded, "But I think they're going to fire me. I'm apparently "too nice". I need to find another career idea."

"How can you be fired for being too nice? Police forces can't do that."

"Apparently they can."  
"What is something you would like to go into?"

"Saving people… oh! I would love to be able to travel in time. Wouldn't that be amazing, Sherlock?"

"If it were possible, sure," he said, "But it isn't possible."

"Well, what about you? Dream job, real or not."

"A detective would be quite intriguing."

"Or we could go back to when we were young and become Peter Pan," she smiled.

Sherlock grinned, "Oh yes. You may have to grow up, Amelia, but it is perfectly ok to be immature."

"That is great advice to live by," she said clicking her fingers at him with a smirk, "You are so brilliant."

He nodded, "I know."

"What you were saying earlier," she took a sip of her tea, "Are you still a virgin?"

He shifted in his seat and took a sip of his coffee, attempting not to make eye contact with her, "Well…"

"Oh my gosh, you are!" she exclaimed, putting her hands over her mouth, trying not to laugh.

"Oh shut up," he said brushing her off.

"Alright, Mr. Smarty-Pants," she began, "if you weren't getting ladies in high school and the university, what were you doing?"

"How bout we rather not go there. I want to know more about your high school life."

She wagged her finger at him, "No, no, no. I want to know about you first. You said the Sherlock I knew wasn't around. I want to know _you,_ Sherlock."

"Want to know?"

"Yes!"

He let out a deep sigh, "I screwed up. I did a lot of drugs in the university and almost got kicked out because of it. I made mistakes, a lot of them. I OD'd and you don't know how many times I wish I could go back and would've told myself to stop doing them. But no, I kept going and ended up almost dying.

"I stayed a virgin through high school because no one would talk to me. No one would even make eye contact with me. I spent my classes in the back corner of the rooms and read books. I had no friends and I vowed that when I moved away from you, Amelia.

"Mycroft became a total twit when we moved. He felt it was 'right' for him to step up to the fatherly position in the household. That was code for putting my life in hell. I lived in my room and read books, or watched people from the street. Since I left you, my life went to hell. Satisfied, Amelia?"

She was speechless. Sherlock… went bad? Drugs? That doesn't sound like Sherlock. Can a person change that dramatically in a few years?

Amy opened her mouth to say something, but closed it just as quick.

"Go on then," Sherlock coaxed, "You have something to say, say it."

"Why," she managed to say, "Why would you ever go to drugs? That's not the answer."

"They helped me think during school. Life sucked at the time, I needed a hobby."

"That's not a good hobby."

"I haven't done it in years, Amelia. Don't make it sound like I still do. I learned my lesson. I've moved on."

"Moved on to what?"

"Nicotine patches. So much easier," he took another sip of his coffee, "What about your high school life?"

"Nothing happened to me," she shrugged, "Lost my v-card at around age sixteen or seventeen. Had a few friends here and there. I couldn't bare myself to have any more guy friends after you moved away. I didn't do much, alright? I lived a boring teenage life. Normal one would say."

"Normal? Normal is for the dull minded."

"Oh thanks," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Yes you did."

"Ok, maybe I did…"

"See! I do know this Sherlock more than you think I do."

He smirked, "I suppose I underestimated you, Amelia."

"Please stop calling me 'Amelia'. Amy, please! I insist."

"If you say so, Amelia," he smirked.

"Oy, how I hate you, Sherlock Holmes."

He smirked again, "Likewise, Miss Pond."

She stood and smiled to him, "Well. I must be off. John must be wondering where I've gotten too."

"Where is he?" Sherlock asked standing with her.

"Car broke down," she lied, "He's fixing it now. He told me I could wonder off. I should get back though."

"Oh, alright," he nodded.

They walked out of the little coffee shop and stood facing each other. Amy smiled to Sherlock and gave him a hug. He hated physical contact. But, she was still his friend and hugged her back. She gave him a peck on the cheek. Sherlock couldn't help but smile.

"We _will_ stay in touch, Mr. Holmes," she smiled.

"Yes, Miss Pond," he smirked.

She walked off and waved over her shoulder, "Till next time, Sherlock!"

He watched her walk off down the street. Under his breath he said, "Till, next time…"

**(A/N: BOOM! Another chapter done! I like how this one turned out. Kinda goes into the mind of Sherlock Holmes a bit. The lying beings now for Sherlock and Amy. *gasp* **

**Next chapter, oh crap you guys are in for it! that's all I'm going to say about it as well!**

**Sorry it took a bit long on the chapter, I've been watching Doctor Who and haven't written much. tonight it was mostly all around _The Hobbit_! I can't freaking wait for that movie! Martian Freeman, Ian McKellen, Steven Fry and Benedict Cumberbatch? What more could you ask fore in a cast? The book's amazing and wow! Just can't wait! Haha.**

**ANYWAY! R and R and you guys rock and I love you all for such lovely support!)**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

Something was wrong in the air. As Amy walked off down the street, Sherlock had the strangest urge to follow her. He did. Sherlock kept a significant pace behind her just to make sure everything was alright. She was quite easy to spot in a crowed with her fiery red hair.

After a few blocks, Amy vanished. Sherlock new something was really wrong. He began looking down side streets and alleyways to find where she could have possibly gone off to.

One of the small alleys, Sherlock saw four men. The same four men from the museum. Two of the men were holding someone. The person was trying to scream out for help, but failed. Curious as he was, he began to walk down the alley.

Closer and closer he got to the men, the more he could make out of the kidnapped personnel. It was Amy.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes," the one man said with an evil grin, "You should really choose wisely who you are seen in public with."

Sherlock looked to Amy. Fear laced her hazel eyes behind tears. Fighting wasn't going to help her anytime soon. They were too strong for her no matter how hard she struggled to get out of the situation, there was no use.

"A little low isn't it?" Sherlock asked, "I mean, kidnapping? Really? Holding hostages for what…? A silly little flash drive?"

"That 'silly little flash drive' has some silly little important information on it."

"And an virus that can take over the user's computer without the code to deactivate it."

"Ah, someone's been catching on."

"Not too hard, Mr. Delaney. Now, how about you let my friend go and we'll be on our way," Sherlock said calmly.

He held out his hand, "Flash drive. Then maybe we won't kill you both."

"Now, now," Sherlock smiled to Mr. Delaney, "Four against one? Now that's hardly fair."

"We're unarmed, Mr. Holmes," Mr. Delaney held his arms out, as if expecting a pat down, "Give us your best shot."

"And you'll do what? Run away? You're not getting that flash drive. I have already turned it over to British intelligence."

"We can just get it back Mr. Holmes," he smirked, "Besides, you didn't turn anything over to anyone."

Sherlock pulled out the flash drive from his coat pocket, "Oh, you mean this flash drive?"

"Yes," he said with an annoyed smile, "That one."

Sherlock began to throw it up and down in the air, only to catch it when it fell back into his hand, "What's on it? Maps? Plans? Weaponry? What exactly is _so_ important about it?"

"It contains a little bit of everything."

"Against the Queen of England? Well, I don't think you'll be needing this then," he caught it and held it tightly in his hand. It was starting to make intents into his palm.

"Give us the flash drive," Mr. Delaney seethed, "Or we kill the girl."

"Tisk, tisk," Sherlock began to pace around the alley way with his hands behind his back, "You wouldn't kill Miss Pond here. That's not your kind of style. You just want this flash drive to black mail the Queen. That," he stopped pacing and faced Mr. Delaney, "That's just not going to happen if I'm still standing here."

Mr. Delaney laughed, but then went for a punch to Sherlock. The punch caught him off guard as his fist collided with his face. _No more Mr. Nice Guy,_ Sherlock thought as he kindly punched the man in the stomach. He went down and another man lunged for him.

Sherlock twisted his limber body and back handed the man. The man stumbled and went in for a punch. Sherlock proceeded to snap his arm in half as it came in for a punch. It was easy. A little too easy. _These men are untrained. They're moves are what they've seen off a James Bond movie. Something's not right here…_

One of the men that were holding Amy released her and went at Sherlock. He threw a punch and Sherlock blocked. Sherlock went for a punch and the man blocked it and twisted it slightly, almost breaking it. _Finally, a challenge,_ he thought as he gave a small smirk before proceeding to punch the man square in the nose.

The man's nose snapped and it began to bleed. More than likely it was broken. The man came at Sherlock with a series of punches and blocks. Sherlock was now loving the challenge he was given. He smirked and finally punched the man in the rib cage and he was winded. Sherlock kicked the back of his knee and he fell to the ground. With one final kick to the chin, he was down.

Sherlock turned to the man that was still holding Amy. Sherlock grinned and the man let go of Amy and ran off down the alley way.

Confused and frightened, Amy ran into Sherlock's arms. He held her for safety. She didn't say anything, just held onto him for comfort.

Sherlock barely managed to wiggle his cell phone out of his pocket. He hit the speed dial number three on his phone and waited. Ring… ring… ring…

"Hello?"

"Hello, brother dear," Sherlock said, "I have the flash drive you requested."

"Where is it?" Mycroft asked.

"With me. These men just won't give up," Sherlock said looking down at the three unconscious men, "When do you want to meet?"

"Soon. Sometime this afternoon? How does three o'clock sound?"

"Sounds perfect. I can finish up answering some questions for Lestrade and meet you at my flat. Good?"

"I suppose."

"See you then, brother."

"Till then, brother," Mycroft hung up.

Sherlock got his phone back into his jacket pocket. He began to walk down the alleyway just as Lestrade and the police showed up. Lestrade and Sherlock hurried Amy off to one of the ambulances to get checked out.

Lestrade began to bombard Sherlock with questions. What were they doing? Who was the lovely lady holding onto Sherlock for dear life? Sherlock, did you beat up those guys? Who are those men? Why did the one run off? And so on and so forth of that nature.

Sherlock answered what he knew or at least wanted Lestrade to know he knew. This meant lying about Amelia. If Lestrade found out about Amelia, he wouldn't hear the end of it from him. Finally satisfied with his answers, Lestrade went to go help with the bodies.

One of the medics had checked out the bruise on his face. He brushed it off like it happened everyday and told them he was fine and to run along and take care of the bodies in the alleyway. For some reason, they abided by his wishes and walked away from him. Sherlock smirked. He loved when people listened to him.

Sherlock joined Amy by the back of the ambulance. She had a bright, and tacky, orange blanket on. For shock of course, what else would that be used for? Her knees were up against her chest and she hugged them tightly so she wouldn't move. Neither of them said a word to each other, but they knew they were there.

Amy looked up at Sherlock, "You're not an art museum security guard, are you?"

"Far from," he said simply,

"I have questions," she stood up and began to follow Sherlock as he walked down the street.

"I know," he said, "I shall answer those once back in the flat."

"Flat?"

"Sure. I'm not going to let you be stranded out here. I'm sure your friend won't mind."

"No… he won't."

"Good. I need to give something to Mycroft back in my flat and do some experimentation with this flash drive if Mycroft will allow it. You can stay the night if necessary."

"Really?"

"Well of course. You were just taken hostage if memory serves."

"You have a lot of explaining to do, Sherlock," she scolded.

"I know…" he trailed off.

They walked back to Baker Street, no more than two blocks away. Amy couldn't hold back her questions. She was letting them fly one after another. Slowly and slowly, Sherlock was getting more and more tempted to send her back to her friend. He always got annoyed far too easily.

They reached 221B and Sherlock allowed her in first. She waited by the stairs for Sherlock. Sherlock waved her up the stairs first. Amy smiled and began to skip up the stairs. He let out an annoyed sigh and called up to John.

"John! We have a client!"

Sherlock and Amy had reached the main floor. She was in awestruck wonder at the flat Sherlock had. It was so… him! She wondered around the living room. Sherlock watched her for a second before going off to find John.

Amy looked around at all the interesting things Sherlock had around the flat. Bullet holes in a wall with a… smiley face? She was going to ask about that for sure. The board game _Cludo_ was on the wall with a knife through the cardboard. _Is that a human skull?_ She thought as she poked the skull sitting on the mantelpiece. She shuttered and flopped down in an armchair. There was a lot of interesting things around the room. Skulls, books, sheets of music, more books; all of which she had questions about.

Sherlock heard the water running down the hall. He sighed and opened the door a crack. The shower was one and John was singing "Hello Goodbye" off key again. Sherlock smirked.

"John, we have a client. Look decent, please," he closed the door then opened it again quickly, "Also, please stop your indecent singing before it drives our client away."

"You're just jealous that you can't sing," he laughed.

"Oh, I know I can't. I chose something I'm good at to hit on, now get dressed."

John let out another laugh as he shut off the water. Sherlock shut the door this time, not wanting to see a naked man at the moment.

He went down one door to his room to hang his scarf and coat up. He shed off his blazer and threw that on his bed. He then proceeded to roll up the sleeves of his black dress shirt. It was only Amelia after all. After a quick pat down of his pockets, the flash drive was safe in his front left pocket next to his phone.

He walked back out into the living room and saw Amy sitting down on the couch. She had seemed to make herself at home. She looked up and smiled to Sherlock.

"Oh, you have _so_ much explaining to do."

"I know. I'll answer all questions after my meeting."

"With?"

"Mycroft."

"I want to say hi!"

"No you don't," he said, "You honestly don't."

She crossed her arms over her chest. She wasn't moving. Sherlock rolled his eyes and let out another annoyed sigh.

"I will move you myself."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Did you miss what happened in the alleyway ten minutes ago? I think I can move a twenty seven year old woman."

She straightened up on the couch and crossed her arms harder. She wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. He looked her up and down. _Bags under her eyes. Lack of sleep. Souls of her boots are severely scuffed up. More than likely she's on her feet moving a lot. Red scarf around her neck. Could be used for warmth but then what of her skirt? I could use the scarf to tie her up to something…_

Sherlock sighed and poked her side. She cringed. _Still ticklish…_ he smirked and tried her knee. She seemed to jump a foot in the air. Amy hit him on the shoulder.

"Stop that!" she scolded.

"Then leave," Sherlock said.

Downstairs, Sherlock heard the doorbell ring then the door open and close. He quickly took Amy's hand and drug her to the back hallway. Sherlock ran into John, now dressed, on the way.

"Who's-?"

"John, Amelia. Amelia, John," he introduced quickly, "Keep her entertained for five minutes, please."

"O-kay…"

Sherlock handed Amy over to John and swiftly walked back into the living room. Mycroft was just walking up the stairs to the flat. John took Amelia upstairs to his room and he promised to answer any questions she had.

"Mycroft," Sherlock greeted.

"Brother."

The brothers sat across from each other in the arm chairs by the fireplace. They didn't say anything for a few moments.

"The flash drive?"

Sherlock dug it out of his pocket, "right here. What's on here?"

"Blackmail mostly," Mycroft explained, "Those men were part of the secret services. I told you we can't trust our own."

"What are you to do with the drive?"

"Destroy it."

"May I fiddle around with it? I'm highly fascinated about the virus."

"Virus? What virus are you speaking of?" Mycroft asked, utterly lost and confused.

"The virus on this flash drive. Like blackmail of the Queen of England wasn't going to have something on it. It cannot that easy, Mycroft. So there's something on it stopping the regular person from finding pictures of the Queen."

"They're smart."

"And not in jail."

"Did you have something to do with that?"

"Possibly. Well, they shouldn't be holding defenseless people hostage."

"Who might that be?"

"No one in particular."

"Oh really?" Mycroft smirked, "I hear Amelia Pond is back in town."

"I heard that too," he lied.

"What are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing," he lied, "It's been far too long."

Mycroft stood, "Alright, Sherlock."

"Do you want the flash drive to destroy?" Sherlock stood along side his brother.

"No. You can keep it. Somehow, you'll destroy it."

"You are correct."

Mycroft picked up his umbrella and walked towards the stairwell leading out.

"If you do see Miss Pond," Mycroft said, "Send her my love."

**(A/N: whew! That was a long one! I hope I did justice to the Holmes boys' conversation… actually, I hope I'm doing all the characters justice! This is my first actual Sherlock or Doctor Who fic!**

**Anyway, R and R and you guys still freaking rock!)**


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